


and we both knew it this time

by wolfchester



Series: love song for no one [4]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: F/M, Kate is amazing, but he IS a sarcastic lil shit, clint isnt grumpy anymore, this is the fun part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 12:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1778956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfchester/pseuds/wolfchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You left me. And you took my damn dog!”</p><p>“He’s not just your dog, idiot.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	and we both knew it this time

**Author's Note:**

> i am really overusing the italics in this series. oh well. #yolo
> 
> (part 4 (and final) of the 'love song for no one' series)
> 
> also the lyrics are from dog is dead's "teenage daughter"

* * *

 

_Tell me old foe, you remember where we started?_

_All caught up in love shaking hands and fickle hearted_

_And I remember you were puffy eyed in the morning_

_Save yourself for another guy_

 

* * *

 

It’s 2am on a Saturday when there’s a knocking at his apartment door.

At first, Clint thinks it might just have been the wind banging against it or something, seeing as it’s basically a frickin’ storm outside right now. So he ignores it, clenching his eyes tight shut and burrowing his head further into his pillow.

But then the knocking sound keeps returning, and after like forty seconds it’s accompanied by a screech of:

“Clint effing Barton! Get your ass out here right now!”

And it sounds a lot like Kate Bishop.

But, hey, _that_ doesn’t add up. The younger Hawkeye left for Los Angeles and she didn’t exactly make it sound like she was going to be back for a while. And she took his frickin’ dog! And she’s not even his girlfriend!

“Don’t make me bust down your goddamn door, Barton!” Kate’s voice persists, cutting through the wailing wind and echoing through his apartment.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming! Keep your panties on!” He yells, crawling out of that warm bed and into his sweatpants.

“Clint! I’m telling yo-”

Kate’s voice is cut off by the opening of the door and Clint’s shirtless shadow appearing. He flicks the light switch and scrunches his eyes at the blast of yellow that illuminates the kitchen.

“You _left_ me. And you took my damn dog! And you’re not even my girlfriend!”

Kate’s left eyebrow arches high, and she rests a hand on her hip. “What? No ‘hello, Kate! I missed you, Kate! How have you been, Kate’? Besides, he’s not just _your_ dog, idiot.”

The sass is definitely still there, Clint thinks. Los Angeles hasn’t changed that about her.

But that’s about the only thing that’s the same. Her black hair is much longer, reaching down to the middle of her back rather than cutting off just past her shoulders. She’s still wearing those damn cut-off shorts (like, why? Who cares if she looks hot? It’s like 12 degrees outside!) and a purple v-neck shirt with that denim jacket she so loves. He can see the muscles in her arms are a little more defined, and there’s a healing scar running across her face from her right earlobe to the corner of her lip, and he wonders what _exactly_ she’s been getting up to in L.A. She’s got her duffel bag in one hand and the case for her bow in the other. She’s _completely_ drenched in rain water and basically looks like something Lucky would drag in, but he’d never tell it to her face (okay, maybe he would). He can’t deny she still looks good, though, with that wet t-shirt sticking to her skin and damp hair tucked behind her ears.

“Eyes up here, jerk,” she says, gesturing to her face with an amused expression, because she knows what he’s doing (and she doesn’t really mind it).

He smirks. “Hello, Katie-Kate. Glad to have you back. Now, where's my dog?”

Kate rolls her eyes. “Clint, I told you, he’s my dog t-”

She’s interrupted by a loud bark and the scrambling of paws down the hallway, and before you know it, there’s a sopping wet yellow mass of a dog bounding over to Clint and licking his face.

“Hey- Pizza Dog! How was L.A., buddy? Kate treat you well? Not as well as me, though, right?” Clint manages to get out between licks.

Kate shakes her head at the scene and smiles. She knows how Lucky feels, because she missed Clint, too. Even if he is a total idiot sometimes.

“So, what? You’re just gonna leave me here, dripping on the carpet? Is that how you treat people who have looked after your slobbering dog for the past four months?” Kate asks, a teasing glint in her eye.

Clint laughs shortly and stands up from petting the dog, who’s currently sniffing around in his hand for food. “Come on in, little runaway,” he says, pulling her in for a hug. “I missed ya.”

Kate chuckles against his shoulder. “I know. You left like, two thousand voice messages. And- I’m not a ‘runaway’! You were being a major dick, and I needed to get away for a while. It was a _vacation_ , okay? Away from your stupid ass.”

He leans back, his arms still circling her waist. His eyebrows furrow into a little frown and she can’t help but want to smooth the lines out with her fingertips. “You still think my ass is stupid?” He asks.

“Yeah,” she grins. “But I missed it a lot.”

He’s very close to her face right now, and Kate catches his gaze flickering to her lips more often than not. First of all: _what_. Just,  _what_. Secondly: is it bad that she kind of wants him to close that gap? Yeah. Probably. She swallows, blinks, and smiles.

“I read your letter,” she says, looking up at him and trying to focus on his eyes and not his lips but it’s not working too well when he decides to flick his tongue out and wet them a little.

Clint’s eyebrows raise upwards and he clears his throat. “Uh, you did?”

“Yeah,” Kate says, stepping a little closer to him.

“What did you think of it?” He’s trying to sound cool, like he doesn’t really care. _Casual. Be casual, Clint. Casual, casual, casu-_

He doesn’t manage to finish his train of thought, because suddenly Kate’s lips are on his and there’s nothing he can think about except the fact that _Kate’s kissing him and he likes it_. A _lot_. His hands tighten around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, and her fingers tangle in his short hair, and he can feel her breathing hard and _god_ why is his heart beating so fast? She pulls away after a long moment, chest heaving, eyelids heavy.

"I came back. Like a boomerang or some shit," she says, echoing the words from his letter, her breathing a little erratic but with a laugh in her voice.

He grins at her, just barely, before leaning down to kiss her again. "That you did. And I’m so glad. Now I can have someone to make me pancakes in the morning again! As smart as Stark is--the man can’t flip a pancake to save his life.”

“You’re such a doof,” she says, then plants her lips on his and smiles.

And there they are, Kate pressed up against the kitchen counter, with Clint's hands cupping her face and her own hands running patterns through his hair. And they're kissing each other like there's no tomorrow, like it's the end of the world (again), like if Clint doesn't have her in his arms he might explode. And it’s good.

 

* * *

 

Some time later, the two Hawkeyes are curled up on the couch, _finally_ watching the last episode of Dog Cops. Clint’s fingers are running gently through Kate’s slowly-drying hair, and his chin rests against the top of her head. Their legs are all tangled together, with the couch blanket thrown on top of them.

Clint mutes the TV when the advertisements come on, and Kate takes the opportunity to shift in his arms to face him.

“You don’t have to worry about hurting me, you know,” she says, tracing his chapped lips with her fingers. “I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions.”

He leans in to her a little, lets her hair grace his cheek and their breaths mingle. “And what do you want, Katie-Kate?”

“I want _you_ , doof,” she replies, moving so she’s sitting in his lap and looking down at him, hair falling over their faces like a dark curtain.

She moves to kiss the hollow of his shoulder and runs her fingers down his chest, smiling when she hears his breath hitch.

“You only want me for my body, don’t you, girly-girl?” Clint says, and she can _feel_ him grin.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“In my defence, I _did_ know that. But you love me, Hawkeye.”

“Whatever, Hawkeye.”

 

**end**


End file.
